SMUG
Standing in my now-ex-boyfriend Rich's apartment, I grinned in what I claimed to be my secret spot. First window, second floor, looking just beyond the tree branches that hung low in front of my sight. Where I once saw my sweetheart yelling on his phone or sitting in parked cars filled with smoke, I, now, saw a grown man reduced to nothing but a statistic. He never made a fuss. He didn't cop an attitude. He was disturbingly quiet, but you could hear his loud rueing.
My eyes kept darting between the police siren lights below and a line of birds perched atop the townhouse across the driveway.
"We know everything," they seemed to say. But the look I gave them could have crumbled stone. It was my special day, I was happy, and nobody, especially not a group of guilt-tripping birds, was going to spoil my good mood.
"Paul?" Matt said from down the stairs. "They need Ginny's number, and I don't have it."
"I'm not close with Rich's sister. Besides, I don't have a cell phone, so I don't have it on me." I said. I didn't turn around. I liked Matt, and I'm sure he was a good roommate to Rich, but I don't think he'd react well to my smile. "I guess he'll be spending the night at the station." I could hear Matt begin to say something, but he held his tongue. He was Mr. Nice Guy, really, and I pitied the fact that this had to ruin his day. The other two guys Rich lived with were just coming home as this was happening. I didn't see them except from my window. I walked up the stairs rather leizurely, like a madame in a 1940s musical; the world my oyster. I didn't bring much over this time. A change of clothes, my laptop, just enough gas money in my wallet to get home.
There was something rotten about Rich and I from the very start, and I was lucky to even get a toothbrush in the bathroom, nonetheless any clothes. He gave me a corner on the floor beside what became my side of the bed. My bag was light, when I walked downstairs, where I found the landlord puttering through the kitchen cabinets, presumably looking for some sort of dime bag. The other tenants sat in the den, discussing what had just happened. Some of them were shaking; maybe they had something to hide, I dunno.
The all gave me a look that seemed to whisper, "What have you done? Did you know this was happening? Is he taking the blame for you? What's been going on?" My keys jingled in my hands and my hair was a mess. I could have just strolled by them to the slider door and driven home. I had already been questioned. I had no connection to this place anymore, but I felt like I owed them some relief.
"I was the one who tipped off your landlord. Rich never hit me. I wasn't there where he got the stuff. I found him in the bathroom. I had no idea," I said, matter-of-fact-ly. Each sentence came out of my mouth the same way a list of rules would: Do not walk on the courtyard past 11 P.M.; The pool is not for children younger than 8 with adult supervision; please return hotel key upon checking out; do not leave lines of cocaine in your boyfriend's bathroom; do not place dime bags in his top dresser drawer; do not leave an anonymous message on his landlord's answering machine; do not get into your car with a smug grin on your face; do not drive home and leave him sitting in a local jail cell; do not feel proud of yourself. Do not feel proud of yourself.
4 comments:
You asked me earlier if I could tell what was going on. It is pretty clear cut by the last paragraph. I enjoyed the short suspense in the beginning, they questions forming in my head as to what exactly is going on in the story.
I really enjoyed the visuals in this story. They were short flashes across my mind as I read, but very poignant at the same time. my personal favorite was the description of the window in the loft upstairs.
I also really enjoyed the length of the story. A little longer, and it would have been lacking to the point where you would have been forced to make it longer.
Yup, gonna have to agree with Mel that I was able to figure out exactly who "Rich" was. And then I had a good laugh at his expense. But my biggest critique is that I wasn't thinking of Rich anymore, but rather the inspiration for Rich. You may want to give his character a few more unique details.
However, I did really enjoy your ability to set a scene in so few words, and the way you can weave details seamlessly into the big picture without a jarring "HEY WATCH OUT, I'M GETTING SPECIFIC NOW" shift. Probably my favorite detail was the birds on the nearby apartment building, and I really liked the "rules" tone of the last paragraph.
Like Jill, my favorite detail was also the birds on the line. Unlike Jill, I still had no clue what was going on. Possibly due to the lack of background knowledge. From what I read, it seems the protagonist lashes out to an obscene degree for some unknown reason. He plants drugs in his ex-boyfriends apartment because... he didn't get to sleep in the same bed? This is very confusing. What happened to just breaking up?
Also, when Paul talks to the tenants, there is no context to what he's saying. Rich hitting Paul never even comes up in the story. It seems out of place. Same with, "I found him in the bathroom."
Clarity is the one giant problem with this piece. Everything else is small in comparison. For instance, "loud rueing." It's an awkward (and slightly nonsensical) phrase. "...Nonetheless any clothes," should be, "...never mind and clothes."
As for needing Rich's sister's number, why didn't they ask... Rich?
I'm sure if the items I pointed out in my first comment are clarified, this will be a much better piece. So far, Paul just seems like a great, big, lying douchebag.
You see? I thought that my story was too one-sided. Of course it makes sense to ME.
I wasn't sure whether or not this would make any sense to a general public or not. Jill and Miss Lady obviously know why Paul would leave drugs in his boyfriend's apartment and intentionally frame him. I think I need to do a better job with making this a lost more seamless. I don't want to tell the reader why Paul is doing these things, but I want them to know that Rich did something to provoke him.
And you're right. Why wouldn't they just ask Rich?
I think I'm obliged to revise this now. :P
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